


to be used

by bluelovinidiot



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: 2nd POV (2D), M/M, implied sex, reupload, the context is what if murdoc used 2D on plastic beach, this is supposed to be toxic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25773802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluelovinidiot/pseuds/bluelovinidiot
Summary: 2D doesn’t understand what love is.
Relationships: Murdoc Niccals & Stuart "2D" Pot, Murdoc Niccals/Stuart "2D" Pot
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	to be used

**Author's Note:**

> this is a reupload in case it feels familiar. enjoy

_I love you._

Did you say it? 

Did you tell him? Go on, speak up. Make yourself heard. Break through his walls with megaphones as loud as the deafening lonesomeness shattering your already broken heart. Tightening around your throat while endless waterfalls spill from your eyes. Make them crumble like the body you try so hard to hold together when you’re falling all around yourself, piece by piece, unaware of the damage being done to yourself and oblivious to his actions.

Maybe you were too soft spoken. Maybe the words got lost in your throat like the tune you wished to sing for him in pure harmony, instead of a forced chorus he orchestrated with the use of his lips.

Maybe it died down in the pit of your soul that he’s bruised countless and _countless_ of times with fists you’ve often mistaken for kisses, and bruises you’ve convinced to be love bites. He’s done it so often that you’ve often forgotten what the word “love” even means. It got lost in the euphoric haze of the pain killers numbing you from his sadistic, rhinestone gaze that you’ve easily trapped yourself in with a pleasurable moan.

A moan that sparks something in him, challenges him, taunting him into the game he believes life is. And he drives himself forward, over the edge beckoning you to follow, and you do. You’d follow him _anywhere_ if it meant you’d be used by him again to merely give relief to an itch that’s needed scratching for years.

Even when he refuses to touch you tenderly, or breathe life into your bruised vessel, or call out to you in delight, you still allow him to claim you and tug on the leash you planted into his hand from the very beginning. Before the band, before the dents in your head, because from the very beginning, you were meant to be a used, cracked porcelain doll put on display and adored at while he pulled on the strings.

And you lose yourself in it as he fills you with happiness, masked by the knife gently grazing down your back and between your legs. He pulls you down further with him, and you allow yourself to be consumed, because you didn’t want to be left alone.

You didn’t want him to _leave_ when you knew that he had to disappear. You reach for the sky, believing if you reached a little higher, he would be right there beside you basking in the glow of the sun and in the warmth of your embrace.

But to him you’re just a pawn in his own game of chess, except the chess board shifts and sways like the creak of your bed whenever he carries you through another dream state of bliss. He holds you possessively yet carelessly, as most kings do when dismissing their pawns, sacrificing whatever they needed in order to survive in this world.

And no matter how many times you end up here with him, wrapped up in the beautiful lies and moving further from the truth as your climaxes build together, you’re still convinced that maybe, he cares about you too, even when his grip is a little too rough while he watches you break like the fragile mirror you are, a reflection of all his past mistakes, not bothering to piece you back together, because you work just the same, broken or not.

And everyone sees it. The cracks that run down from your brain to your heart, exposed by the hollow gloom in your eyes. You know it’s there, and he knows it too, but none of you care. The both of you refuses to accept the damage, and instead add to it, building the fueling the lust ignited within you.

The lonesome feeling rings in your ears as a weight presses down on you, masking you in a smell that is unpleasant and so suffocating, you forget how to breath, until you realize you’re coming all over your sheets as he let’s out the need you’ve been searching for within him. You feel ashamed for getting off on this feeling of abandonment. 

He moves farther and farther away, and the loneliness intensifies. Suddenly you’re back on the ground and inside the confines of your prison. And you’re stuck with the words caught between your lips as you let out a defeated sigh.

_I love you._

Did you say it?

Did you mean it?


End file.
